


Kazoku

by teal_bandit



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Adorable Kurt Wagner, Childhood Trauma, Eventual Akihiro/Bobby, Eventual Romance, Family Dynamics, Family Issues, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Logan & Kurt Wagner Friendship, M/M, Other, Past Character Death, Rating May Change, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:59:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 9,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24081697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teal_bandit/pseuds/teal_bandit
Summary: Every time they're in a room together, Daken can smell the fondness and hear their hearts racing. Every touch they share sends out wave after wave of a closeness that hits like a punch to the gut. It makes him want to be sick almost as much as it makes him want to hold someone. He can smell it… surely his father has, too, so why won't he act on it?Or, a Daken-centric Logurt fic where Logan and Kurt are both oblivious and Daken gets a step-dad.
Relationships: Daken Akihiro/Bobby Drake, Logan (X-Men) & Kurt Wagner, Logan/Kurt Wagner
Comments: 44
Kudos: 69





	1. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken takes a break from cleaning to have a cup of coffee with his father's best friend. But what does Kurt mean by it?

"Ah… do you want a drink or anything," a voice from the door asks, peering in with glowing yellow eyes and a tail swishing almost nervously behind him. 

Daken looks behind him, moving his hair out of his eyes. He really should have pulled it up. "I'm fine," he sighs, scrubbing away furiously at the grime near the edge of the tub. How can people be this disgusting in a shared space?

"Are you sure? I made a fresh pot of coffee…" Kurt tilts his head, making the… older man in front of him sigh again. "You've been at that for a while, mein freund, I thought maybe you could use a break."

"Perhaps," He concedes, coming to the sink to wash the chemicals and germs off his hands. He's scrubbed the bowl til it shines, and fully intends to do the same with the rest of the room, but the lack of ventilation is making the work hot. He's going to need a shower after this, but he supposes a cup of coffee and pulling back his hair will help as much as anything.

In the kitchen, Kurt is already pouring him a cup, but pauses. "Do you take anything? Cream? Sugar?"

"There's… there's some creamer in the fridge door. It's almond milk."

"Almond milk," Kurt questions, opening the fridge to find the container. "Lactose intolerance?"

"I'm half Asian; it happens," Daken shrugs.

Kurt chuckles a little when he sees the bottle. "Sweet cream? How unexpected."

Daken feels his nose twitch a little. What does he mean "unexpected"? He huffs a little, pulling his hair into a bun out of his face to distract himself.  _ Best not to think about it too much _ . 

Kurt sits the cup down at the adjacent seat to his and sips on his own, black and dark and bitter. He smiles, reminded of his mother and how she would let him sneak drinks from her cup when he had late nights.

Daken raises an eyebrow, taking a drink of his. Even with the sweetness of the creamer, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth--however metaphorically. All the time his old mentor tried to slice or kick or beat the childishness out of him… he still can't bring himself to drink his coffee black. 

"You know, with how effective you are at cleaning, I'm tempted to ask how much I'd have to pay for you to help me organize my books," Kurt smiles at him, trying to make conversation.

"Hmm? Well, I suppose that depends on how you organize them."

"How do you organize  _ yours _ ?"

"Genre," he answers before stopping to ask himself why. It's an innocent question, sure, but Daken has learned not to trust even those.

"That seems reasonable… my system is decidedly  _ not _ organized.. sometimes it's by title, sometimes it's by author… I have all of my Agatha Christie novels in one section, but all of my classic titles are in another," Kurt laments. He didn't have space or money for a luxury like books growing up. He still has the first book he was ever given--a worn-out copy of the Bible that Father Wagner had given him. It's ragged and dog-eared and marked, but he cherishes it more than almost any of his possessions. He's never replaced it.

"Hm. Sounds like a bit of a task," Daken remarks, sipping some more of his coffee.

"It would be, kid, don't try it," drawls a gruff-sounding, gruff-looking man entering the room. "He probably couldn't pay you enough for it." The man snorts softly, play-punching the blue mutant in the chair.

Kurt lets out an indignant huff, crossing his arms and smirking. "You're saying I'm broke?"

"I'm saying you have too many books," Logan grins, pouring himself a cup of coffee as well.

Kurt scoffs, mocking offence as he dramatically turns his head away from his old friend. "One can never have too many books, mein freund! That's like saying that you can have too much air!"

Daken watches as their conversation continues, at least until he finishes this cup of coffee… When he's done, he stands, rinsing the cup and sitting it on the counter to be washed. He sighs, looking at the bathroom--at all the work that still needs doing--and gets his cleaning toothbrush back out.

Minutes pass and Kurt stands back in the doorway, peeking in like a child spying on a brother. Not that Daken would know… "I'm sorry if I was rude earlier. I hadn't meant to abandon our conversation."

Steel blue eyes raise from the floor, where his slender hands are bundled in cloth, mopping the floor. "Why on earth would you care about that?" But Daken already knows; he knows why this man maintains such an open posture, why he forces smiles even when he doesn't agree with a statement, why he tries so hard to seem approachable, and why despite all of it he smells so nervous.

"Because that's not what I intended… I don't want you to think I don't want your company--you're actually quite knowledgeable." He frowns softly, almost a pout.

Daken chuckles darkly, looking back down and continuing to scrub the floor. "Nice try.'

"You don't believe me?"

"No." He states plainly, the memories of all of the people with so-called good intentions who betrayed and hurt him in his mind like a rope hanging from gallows.

"Then why do  _ you _ think I'm here," Kurt tilts his head, stepping out a little from behind the door frame.

"Not sure. But people are rarely unreservedly kind to a known killer without some sort of self-gratifying end. You're probably trying to crack my brain to tell my old man, since I won't let him in," he frowns, focusing on a spot beside the toilet.

"Hmm… well, I wish I would have thought of that first; that's actually a good idea," the man laughs softly, thinking of how ridiculous it would be--Logan's son opening up to him and then him spilling everything to Logan. "But no. I'm not after that. I  _ do  _ think you're interesting, though; I know a little bit about you from what your father has told me. But I also know the importance some people put on privacy, and I wouldn't want to violate yours."

Daken looks at him with focus, reading his smell, his expression, his body language, his  _ heartbeat _ . 

Nothing says he's lying.


	2. Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Daken go for a walk and discuss Kurt Szardos and Akihiro.

The wind feels good in his face, still chilly from the cold of the past few months. Beside him, a blue, furry mutant with pointed ears and a tail walks, graceful in his movements--betraying his origins as an acrobat without even intending to. The man talks with vowels too harsh and rolling r's and guttural sounds that no English speaker could make without months of practice. The lilt of his voice is welcoming, and it keeps Daken focused on their walk, and not all of the voices and demands in his own head.

"So, if you don't mind my asking, why do you still go by Daken? Your father tells me that it's… well, that it's a bit of a slur," Kurt asks, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. 

"It was at one point. The semantics of the word have changed over the years, though, so it's sort of a term of endearment now," the man explains. "It doesn't have a direct translation, but the closest to it would be something like 'silly puppy'."

"That still doesn't explain why you won't use your given name. Akihiro, was it?"

Inwardly, he flinches. That name brings back memories that still cut deep some days. "Akihiro… that boy died with his parents. Any semblance left of him was cut out a long time ago."

"Unglaublich, and your father thinks  _ I'm _ melodramatic," he observes, smiling teasingly.

Daken looks at him harshly. "Melodramatic?"

"Yes, just that," he chuckles, poking his new friend's toned arm. "You say it like there's absolutely nothing left of you when you were a child--when you were innocent. But you still drink your coffee sweetened, and you still stick out your tongue to concentrate." He smiles broadly, but it falls as fast as it came.

"What?" Daken frowns, embarrassed that someone was able to make those connections so easily, and maybe a little concerned for Kurt--not that he would admit it.

"There's need there, too," Kurt says solemnly. "A need for approval and a need for love."

"Sure," the man rolls his eyes, not unlike his father. "I'm sure Logan's probably told you that, right?"

Kurt shakes his head, a little sad, but managing to give him a smile, still. "No… I've seen it before. In so many of the students at the institute. In your father. In myself. Isn't it par for the course when you've grown up starved for it? Even parents who do love you can still leave you wanting…"

"Your parents did? I mean, Mystique, sure," he shrugs, remembering what he had read on file about her abandoning her infant son in a well.

"Even Margali," Kurt sighs, hunching his shoulders a bit. "She meant well, and she did the best she could for all three of us, but it was difficult for her to provide that for me--especially with Herr Getmann being so controlling later in life. She did her best to make me feel safe and loved when I was with her, but sometimes--a lot of times--it feels like maybe it wasn't enough. And when it feels that way, you start looking in other places. Sometimes places that get other people or yourself hurt."

Daken stays silent, soaking in Kurt's words. They seem to seep into his bones--resonating deep within him. It seems strange to him that someone who has felt that pain would be as open and friendly as Kurt. All it ever did to  _ him _ was make him colder.

"But that's why I… I don't see anything wrong with Akihiro. He's just a part of you--the part that still wants what all of us need. The part that got damaged along the way, but still needs acknowledged. I know that boy is still in there somewhere." His voice cools, almost defeated. He's so sure there's no sense in trying to argue this with him.

"Maybe he is," Daken sighs sometime later. "But he's buried under miles of  _ Daken _ . So until I'm ready to dig him back up, I'll keep going by that name."

Kurt looks at him, the look in his eyes something akin to pain, and nods.


	3. Repairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken overhears a conversation aboard the Blackbird.

Every time they're in a room together, Daken can smell the fondness and hear their hearts racing. Every touch they share sends out wave after wave of a closeness that hits like a punch to the gut. It makes him want to be sick almost as much as it makes him want to hold someone. He can smell it… surely his father has, too, so why won't he act on it? Daken wonders this as he fixes the wiring on the other wing of the Blackbird. He can hear his father and Kurt talking clear on the other side of the jet, joking and laughing and swapping manly stories. The smell of joy radiating off them is enough to make him nauseous.

"Logan, what are you thinking? Putting the bolt on when the washer that goes to it is still on the floor," Kurt chides, smiling at his old friend and shaking his head.

"Listen, elf, the washer is a little far away," he grumbles, looking at the spot where the fastener fell. "And it's not like the 'Bird needs it to function, right?"

"You just don't want to have to reach because you're too short," Kurt chuckles.

"It ain't that," Logan protests, his face twisted in an expression of menace to someone who doesn't know him. But for someone who has known him as long as Kurt? It's second nature to recognize his affection. 

"Sure it is! How did Sean used to put it," he recalls, a hand on his chin. "Oh, right! That you 'came knee-high to an ant'." The man giggles boyishly, dodging the playful punch aimed at his shoulder. He bamfs down to the floor to grab the washer, then back up to hand it to his friend. 

"Eh, good old Sean. Shame what happened to him." Logan smiles sadly

"Yeah," Kurt agrees, swinging his legs off the side of the jet. "And Moira hasn't been the same since, either."

"Hell, I don't blame her," Logan sighs, focusing on the bolts. "Losing someone that special. It does things to ya."

Daken crinkles his nose, the words hitting him in the chest from the other side of the plane. Of course it does. He knows it, and so does everyone else at this school…. So why does he keep that wall up? The only person he could possibly trust not to use it against him is his sister. His sister--his father's clone--who has been through nearly as much traumatic bullshit as he has. Really, he only has her beat in terms of years suffering. He lets out a long breath, connecting the last of the cables to the panel and announcing that he's going to grab a beer. 

And if he brings one to Kurt and his father, what of it?


	4. Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Logan discuss someone over a beer

"You know… your son is a very interesting person," Kurt smiles, sipping his beer, the not-yet-overwelming drone of a Garth Brooks song reverberating off the walls. He feels his friend's questioning gaze on him as soon as the words settle.

"Interesting," he speculates, his eyes focused over the rim of his glass. "Not usually the description people go for."

"Perhaps not," he shrugs, "but I still think so. We got to talking in the car on the way to the grocery store, and uh… he has a lot of opinions about things." The man chuckles, the fond memory of their conversation raising to heat his cheeks.

"Really? Like what?" Logan can smell the blush under Kurt's skin. He tries to bury down the jealousy it causes.  _ Focus on the kid. What does he know about him? _

"Well, for one thing, he hates the concept of lawns." Kurt tosses his head, looking at his friend. "He says they look boring and plain… he thinks that gardens are better-looking. I guess the man who raised him had a rather large garden that he used to help take care of."

Logan huffs softly, looking into his beer. His kid likes gardens, huh? Itsu always did…. He wonders if he got that from her.

"He knows a lot about art and classic literature, too," Kurt laughs, "and he likes Nicki Minaj music."

"Yeah, kid's smart, that's--wait, what?" Logan looks over at him, skeptical and maybe a little bit panicked. "Oh, Christ's sake."

"Oh, relax, schätzchen. It's not all bad," he elbows his side gently, winking. "He also likes Schubert and Green Day."

"Great," the shorter man rolls his eyes. At least his son can tolerate variety, he supposes. More so than his old man, he's sure.

"Did you know he knows like, five or six different languages," Kurt asks, his tail swishing behind him, scraping the floor. "He knows German!" He can't help his smile; how many X-Men or X-Kids has he been able to talk to without having to take the mental energy to translate everything into English first? It can't be a handful, even on someone with all five fingers. Not even Logan is fully conversational, and he's tried to teach him a little.

Logan raises a bushy eyebrow, looking at the man across from him. The joy is evident on his face and in the way he cups his glass. He sighs a little. "Guess that makes talking a little easier, right? Wonder where he picked that up."

"I'm not sure, but I'm definitely not complaining," Kurt chuckles, propping himself on an elbow. He sits his jaw in one three-fingered hand and beams at his friend. He feels another set of eyes on him and the fur along his spine stands a little. "Hello, Daken."

Daken raises a hand as a greeting, then motions to the bartender for a beer.


	5. Grass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken and Laura discuss Daken's new soft side.

Daken sighs, closing his book for a moment and laying it against his chest before closing his eyes. He dozes off for a few moments to the sound of air dancing through the trees above him until a familiar smell coaxes him awake. "Imōto…" 

The affectionate name gets him a set of claws in the shoulder. He groans, moving his book quickly to avoid getting blood on it.

"Thought I smelled a bitch out here," Laura deadpans, her head tilting.

"The only bitch I see here is you," Daken retorts, snorting. He grunts and pulls himself up to sit, his shoulder already stitched back together. He glances over as his little sister sits in the grass next to him. 

Laura sniffs the air, crinkling her nose. "You smell like Kurt. Or something on you does."

"Probably the book," he shrugs, giving the copy of  _ die Verwandlung _ a gentle shake before he sits in on the grass. "He told me I have to read it in German to really appreciate it. I almost thought about telling him I already did, back in '75."

"You didn't," the girl questions, drawing her knees to her chest.

Daken shakes his head. "Figure I'd humor him. It's been a while since I've read it anyway."

"You two have gotten closer," Laura observes, her voice unchanging, but a gleam sparkles in her green eyes, hinting at her teasing. "Should I expect nieces and nephews soon?"

Daken growls, elbowing her in the shoulder, since her ribs are too short a target. "That's not how babies work, dumbass. Besides," he shakes his head, "I'm not interested in him. Not like that."

"Then like what," Laura asks. "It's not like you to open yourself… what plans do you have?"

Daken sighs, leaning back onto his hands. He lays his head to one side, wondering himself. "I… don't know if I do. He's pleasant to be around… he doesn't hold my life against me, or my actions. I can see why the old man is so fond of him…. Very fond of him, actually. I'm surprised he hasn't made a move yet. It's not like Kurt wouldn't accept."

"You've noticed it," Laura nods, moving her dark hair out of the way of her armpits. She noticed it a while ago; how they talk and laugh and touch. "Perhaps someone should tell them…"

"No," Daken shakes his head. "If Logan hasn't noticed and acted by now, I'm sure there's a reason. Even if the reason is that he's a bigger dumbass than you are." He looks at his little sister--the sister who could tear through every muscle and bone in his body in order of lethality--and gives her a wry smile.

She stabs him in the kidneys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imōto means "little sister". Laura doesn't do endearment.


	6. Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Daken have a movie night.

The clanging of metal on metal rings from the television like a tin can. Nothing even close to the sounds of actual swords clashing. Daken wonders if the sound directors ever actually watched a swordfight in their lives. He turns his attention to the man smiling beside him, sitting with his knees in his chest, his tail curling around a bowl of popcorn. This "movie night" was his idea, though why he continues to share these moments with a known and prolific killer like Daken is anyone's guess… has it been so long that the X-Men have forgotten that a good portion of their teammates have killed before?

" I'm only just beginning. From this night forward I will use every mean in my power to fight you," Kurt mimics the actor on the screen, betraying the sheer amount of times he's seen this film. Errol Flynn is his hero, after all. It's only appropriate that he memorizes every line from the handsome swashbuckler.

Daken chuckles softly, stealing a few kernels of popcorn from the bowl. He doesn't like the stuff--the way it sticks in your teeth--but it's the sociable thing to do, he supposes. "This movie is before  _ my _ time, don't you think it's a little old for you?"

"What?!  _ The Adventures of Robin Hood _ is a classic," Kurt pouts.

"Ah… I think maybe people would think the Kevin Costner version is a classic," Daken snickers. "This is what I think they might consider 'ancient'."

Kurt scoffs, maybe a little fondly. "Ancient," he mocks, "it came out in 1938!" He elbows him playfully, as he would had the man sitting beside him been Logan.

Daken lightly smacks his arm away. "Yeah, that makes this movie something around twenty years older than me. And  _ I'm _ old."

"No,  _ Logan _ is old," Kurt waves a finger in correction. "You're practically still a baby."

Daken frowns, squinting at him. "I'm old enough to be your grandfather, Ku- _ chan _ . So don't be calling me 'baby'."

Kurt laughs openly, holding his side as a damp shine hits the corner of his closed eyes, glinting from the light of the TV screen. Daken has to admit, he didn't think he'd get the joke.

"Ku-chan," Kurt questions, still giggling. He wipes his eyes, breathing hard through his sharp nose.

Daken can feel the heat rising up his neck until it settles at the tips of his ears and thanks whatever gods are listening that the room is dark. "What, you would prefer tō-chan?"

"Hmm? What does that mean," Kurt sighs through his nose, coming down from his giggle fit.

Daken presses his lips into a tight line, focusing on the ending credits on the screen. "Nothing important."

"You pick the next movie then," Kurt smiles, closing his eyes. He's feeling good right now--his chest feels full and warm.

Daken searches a streaming service until he finds the movie he's looking for. He leans back on the couch and rummages through the stand next to him for a blanket, crossing his arms underneath it and focusing on the screen to keep his mind off of the past few minutes.  _ What were you thinking, cur _ , he asks himself internally as the animated children on the screen run around a house and explore--oh, the innocence of childhood. 

" _ My Neighbor Totoro _ ? I didn't take you for the animation type," Kurt comments, gently munching some more popcorn. It's beyond cold by now, but he doesn't mind it.

"Hmm. It's… familiar," Daken murmurs, feeling Kurt's glowing eyes on him. It makes him shrink slightly until he feels an arm press against his through the blanket, warming him.

"Ja… it is, isn't it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ku-chan is a diminutive of Kurt's name here. Tō-chan is a typical way that small children say "daddy"


	7. Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken gets surprised with some birthday gifts.

Daken raises an eyebrow, smelling the faint stench of sulfur in the air. He can feel eyes on him, and he chuckles softly. "Kurt, you can stop sneaking around now."

"Aw," the blue man pouts, moving his hands behind his back before his friend can turn around, "I had so meant to surprise you!"

"Surprise me," Daken asks, tilting his head. "What do you need to surprise me for?"

Kurt smiles, his tail swishing behind him. He takes a package from behind his back, wrapped in a pale green paper, and flashes it to the man in front of him. "Happy birthday!"

Daken stills. It's his birthday? The man who raised him always celebrated it later than this… although it doesn't really matter, he supposes. "Birthday?"

"Well, we think so, anyway," Kurt shrugs, blushing slightly. "Logan said that, given the timeframe of events, you were probably born around today. And I figured today is as good as any other." He hands him the package, his heart pounding in anticipation; he loves to give gifts--the way people's faces light up.

"I see… you didn't have to get me anything, though," Daken smiles wryly, slowly opening the paper, trying to get a rise out of Kurt. He sets the wrapping on the counter and inspects the box, his eyebrows furrowing. "What is it?"

"Open it and find out already," Kurt says, exasperated. He's getting impatient and anxious. What if Daken doesn't like the gift…?

Daken laughs, shaking his head. "Alright, alright…" He opens the box carefully, both eyebrows raising as he discovers what's inside. He gingerly pulls out a delicate-looking paintbrush, twisting it in his fingers. "Sumi-e brushes? And an ink stick and stone?"

"There's paper in there, too," Kurt rushes to clarify. "I thought maybe, since… well, since you're a thoughtful kind of person, and you like art…."

"Thoughtful," Daken murmurs, "I don't know that anyone's ever called me that before… these are good brushes, too, Kurt; how much did you even pay for these?"

"Don't worry about it," Kurt shakes his head, his curly hair bouncing with the movement, "it's your birthday, and I wanted to get you something nice."

"But why?"

"Because… well, because you're a friend," Kurt blushes a little more, looking at the floor shyly. "You… well, you're trying very hard to be a better person, and I wanted to maybe help and give you a creative outlet. I care about you, Daken."

"You… do," Daken can feel fear like a vice around his heart, but knows better than to let it show. He sighs. "Well, then, thank you."

"There's one more… although, it's from Logan. He wasn't sure if you'd accept it from him, so he wanted me to show it to you."

Kurt leads him up the stairs to a well-furnished room. It's evident to Daken that this is meant to be  _ his _ new bedroom, but the bed, the desk, the bookshelf, the closet--they're the farthest thing from his attention. 

Sitting at the far end of the room, just next to the window, is a butsudan--an alter to his deceased relatives--with pictures of his adopted family…. And of his mother, Itsu. There are bells and incense burners and paper charms, and a bronze statue of the Buddha himself, sitting and offering a blessing gesture, surrounded by candles. Daken goes pale; his father did this for him?

"It took him a while to find some of these things… even longer to find a priest to enshrine it. This has been a project he's been working on for a few months, but I think he wanted to keep it a secret until he was finished with it," Kurt says softly, not wanting to break the moment.

"He…. There's a kamidana, too…" Daken whispers. A reminder of home; a safe place for the spirits and kami in his room.

"He… I think he wanted you to feel at home here," Kurt wrings his hands a little. He knows how much this means to Logan, to have this done for his son. To give him something meaningful after being absent for so many years…

".... Tell him thank you for me, will you," Daken asks, stepping into the room, "I… I think I'd like to be alone for a while." 


	8. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan smells fresh blood on his son's clothes as Daken does his laundry. Kurt hopes it's not what they think it is.

"So then the guy decides he's gonna use his musket, right? I mean, I'm 80 meters away, there's no way that things gonna hit me," Logan rolls his eyes, relaying a story of his service in the Civil War to Kurt, who is only half-listening to him over a mug of tea. He's not focused on the story, but rather the lilt of Logan's voice--the faces he makes when he tells it. Daken can tell this from his expression and his smell as he walks through the dining room into the laundry room. His pajamas are torn, as is his uniform… and his good jeans… and the shirt he stole off of Johnny storm the last time they tried hanging out. He needs to mend them, but he needs to wash the blood stains out of them first.

Logan stops his story when he smells the blood--fresher than a day old, even though the last time they were out was five days ago. His face sets hard, thin lines showing only a fraction of his real age. Kurt frowns.

"Was ist?"

"The kid," Logan whispers, looking at the door that leads through the kitchen into the laundry room. "That blood is fresh…"

Kurt turns to look at the door, worry flashing over his sharp features. "He seemed okay…"

"Can't tell," Logan shakes his head, "he's hiding his scent."

"Oh…" Kurt frowns a little harder. He knows Daken has a history of self-harm; he hopes this isn't the case. He feels a little better when he can see the man looking through the fridge for some lemon slices. He stands and goes to the fridge beside him, trying a little smile and hoping he can't smell his worry.

"Looks like I'll have to cut one up; we don't have any already in use," Daken frowns, closing the door and heading to the little basket of fruit on the counter. Luckily for him, the X-Men keep a pretty steady supply of things like lemons and hydrogen peroxide for stuff like this.

"Just now getting to your laundry, Honigbär," Kurt asks, finding some small amusement in the way it makes Daken grumble. He remembers the first time he called him that, it made him blush a little; it was cute. 

"Yeah, figured I may as well. I need to get some things sewn; they need washed first, though," the man looks at his fuzzy friend. "Why do you ask?"

"Hmm? Oh, um… it's not like you to wait to do things," he can't help the inflection at the end of the sentence. It's as clear as day that he's lying, and Daken raises an eyebrow.

"Kurt," Daken chides, crossing his arms.

"I… well, Logan smelled fresh blood… I'm just--I want to make sure that you're okay…" the blue man looks down sheepishly, his tail wrapping around his leg.

"That's all? I had a nightmare," Daken shrugs, slicing up his lemon. "Ended up tearing the hell out of my pajamas and sheets; I'll probably have to sew the mattress back together, too."

"Oh… that's it? That's good to hear, I suppose," Kurt sighs. At least he isn't hurting himself on purpose again…

"Sheesh, the way you worry about me, I'd swear it's like you're my step-dad or something," Daken chuckles, going past him with the lemon to get to his clothes.

Kurt puzzles behind him, wondering just what he meant by that.


	9. Bomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken gets his face blown off and Kurt stays to make sure he can heal. How does Logan deal with the competition for his elf's concern?

Daken can't hear what the others are saying. He can barely see them; that explosion must have taken half his face off. Certainly did its damage on his ears. He can smell the worry in the air, though. Kurt's worry--genuine concern and love. As his eardrums grow back, he can hear a low, growling noise that he assumes is his father. He can almost make out the blue and yellow of his costume as he rushes off while Kurt stays with him as he heals.

"Da fällt herab ein Träumeleine, Schlaf, Kindlein, Schlaf…" Kurt finishes the line of his lullaby just as Daken's hearing starts to recover more fully. He's not a wonderful singer, but it helps him to calm down, and it's helped others in dire situations.

"Christ…. It's no wonder he loves you," Daken groans, his face and chest still stitching together from the impact of the blast.

"Hmm," Kurt tilts his head, confused. "Loves me? Who loves me?"

Daken shakes his head, sighing. It's not his place to say it, if the old man is still in denial or whatever it is that's keeping him from just giving in. "Nevermind… do I still have hands?"

"I.. yes," he looks down, searching for the parts in question, "they're uh… mostly tendon right now, though."

"Shit… my head itches."

*******

"We got em. Sending em to the Raft now," Logan drawls, removing his cowl and shaking out his hair. "Kurt take care of ya, kid?"

"Yeah… his singing's atrocious, though," he smirks, making Kurt huff. Logan raises an eyebrow. 

Daken groans, doing his best to stand. Kurt rushes to help him, the smell of his concern peeling off of him in waves. Logan frowns; Kurt knows the kid will heal… Laura helps her brother to the Blackbird, leaving the other two behind.

Kurt's tail swishes anxiously watching them. Logan places a hand on his shoulder. "The kid'll be alright, elf," he says, not sure why his friend's reaction is making him feel so…. Possessive. Like he's overreacting, and really shouldn't be this concerned about  _ his kid _ . And then he feels like a horrible person; Kurt usually worries at least as much about him when he gets hurt.

"I know he will, Logan," the younger man sighs, hugging himself, "but I can't help but worry; I don't know if I'll ever get used to seeing that--the blood and the-the way your bodies have to completely rebuild themselves…" He can't help the shudder that racks his body.

Logan sighs and takes Kurt's other shoulder, turning him to look at him. "I know, elf. I don't know of anyone else who could stay with us the way you do," he reassures, wrapping him in his arms. The way Kurt fits between them makes his heart ache…


	10. Nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt hears Daken having a nightmare. How will his friend react to him trying to comfort him?

Kurt hadn't even noticed that Daken had fallen asleep. They had been sitting in the commons room, reading in each other's company, when he heard a whimper come from the other end of the couch. He looks over at the other man, frowning a little when he hears another small cry escape from his nose, waking him.

"Are you alright, Honigbär," Kurt asks, placing a hand on his arm. His heart drops when Daken pulls it away. He can only catch a whiff of what Logan has taught him is panic before Daken blocks off his scent. He frowns.

"Fine. I'm fine," Daken shakes his head, picking his book back up. "Dozed off for a second."

"I know… were… were you dreaming? You sounded--"

"It's fine. I said I'm fine," Daken growls, irritable and pale. 

Kurt frowns. He knows enough about this type of thing dealing with Logan to know not to push it. But he's worried about him… he hums and looks at his own book. "Could I… um. Do you care if I scoot a little closer?"

"Why the fuck would you want to do that," Daken looks at him, suspicion crossing like a lightning flash across his eyes.

Kurt flinches, blinking. "I just thought you might--"

"Whatever you were thinking, don't." The man huffs, standing from his spot and walking as quickly as he can to his room. He doesn't want contact right now, no matter how sincere he knows Kurt is being. He throws up in the bathroom across the hall and then lays down, his head pounding. 

When he wakes later, he opens his bedroom door to find the book he had left behind on top of a pack of crackers and a package of tuna. On top of the little care package is a note in German.  _ Feel better soon _ . Daken feels his hands go numb when he reads it.

He should apologise.


	11. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan has the wrong impression. He thinks he's accepted it, though.

"What in the fuck were you thinking, Kurt," Daken scoffs, his tone much calmer than the frantic beating of his heart. "You could have been killed, you know that, right?"

"Ah, ja," the younger man replies, using his best friend for balance, his blood starting to soak through the bandages, "but if I hadn't gone up there, then that nice couple would have been crushed…"

"You should have bamfed the old man up there; he has a healing factor." Daken frowns, crossing his arms and looking at his father, who has a hand on Kurt's chest to steady him.

"Huh. Didn't think of that," he yawns, his tail drooping. The blood loss is starting to get to him, making his body feel heavy and his mind fuzzy. 

Logan takes him down to Hank to get patched up, and comes to grab a beer out of the fridge in the meantime. He pops the cap off and takes a nice long swig before looking over at his son, who is coolly reading today's news over coffee. He sits down across from him, sitting the beer down. 

"Kid if you… I mean… shit I'm no good at this…"

Daken lowers the paper and raises an eyebrow, irritated. "The hell are you on about?"

"You… what you've got goin on with the elf… it's fine, kid, and I.. he'd be good for you, I think," Logan looks into his beer, just a little hurt.

Three years ago, Daken would have played along just to hurt his old man--made Kurt want him just to get to Logan. Three months ago, he would have just laughed. Today, he rolls his eyes, straightening out his newspaper and scoffing. "There's nothing going on there. He's all yours, old man, so drop the jealousy--it's reeking up my coffee."

"There… he .. he ain't mine, kid, he… and I thought you and him were--"

"Friends. That's it," Daken looks at him again over the paper. "He's a good person and I … enjoy his company. But there's nothing I want from him in that department."

Logan presses his lips, grabbing the beer, but not wanting to drink it. "Not sure, kid, I think," he swallows, "I think he might with you… the way he worries about you and how he fawns over you."

Now, Daken really does laugh. It's cold and slices sharper than metal. "You're a fool, old man. You're a damned fool." He shakes his head, going back to his paper.

Logan takes another drink.


	12. Dorayaki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt and Daken have a late night snack and a chat.

Kurt walks through the lounge and into the kitchen, the tantalizing smell of something sweet guiding him to the stove, where Daken is flipping over some pancakes, spreading some form of red paste on them and sandwiching them together before transferring them to a plate.

"Mmmm…. Smells tasty," Kurt yawns, "what is it?"

".... Dorayaki," Daken murmurs, pouring out some more batter, thinking it an odd coincidence that he made extra.

"Dorayaki," Kurt tries the word, "what is that?"

"Oh… it's kind of… like a pancake sandwich," Daken explains as best he can, knowing there's not really a Western equivalent. "You make the pancakes and then put anko in the middle…"

"Anko," Kurt tilts his head. He's fairly positive that he's heard Logan mention that one before, but he's not sure what it is.

"Red bean paste… ever had it before?"

"I don't think so…"

"I can make you a couple," he offers, assembling another. 

"That might be nice," Kurt puts a hand on his shoulder, smiling. He's noticed that Daken has been acting a little off lately--more skittish and on edge.

Daken hums, plating the food and putting them on the table. He picks one up and starts eating, letting out a long breath. Kurt tries his best not to stare, worried for the man, but he knows he's failed when Daken stares back at him, his expression unreadable. Kurt can feel the fur on his arms pricking up, and he swallows.

"What?"

"Ah," Kurt frowns, looking down sheepishly, "I'm… it's kind of… late to be making breakfast. Or early… I was kind of… worried…"

"I couldn't sleep." The man states plainly. "I uh… kept having nightmares. So I figured I'd come in here to take my mind off it."

"Oh," Kurt furrows his eyebrows, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Hm. Don't be," Daken takes another bite of his food, sighing.

"I can't help it… I've been there, too, I know it sucks," Kurt pulls his hands in to avoid touching Daken, remembering what happened last time.

"Yeah, it does… but sometimes…" Daken frowns, worrying his bottom lip. "Sometimes it's not as bad… with the right people, I guess…"

"Oh?" Kurt looks at him, a little hopeful. "Yes, I suppose it isn't always so hard… I… I don't suppose you want to talk about it?"

"It's… a lot of different things," Daken shakes his head, looking at the dorayaki. "My adopted family, Romulus… the old man. Sometimes, if my nose is stuffed up, it feels like I can't breathe--like I'm drowning again… usually, the dreams of Romulus or Hudson aren't anything I can't handle; all that shit happened years ago. But that--the drowning and the Death Seed, and Soteira--all of that is so… fresh."

Kurt frowns, risking taking Daken's hand. "I can't even begin to understand how that feels… you've been through so much in such a short time. I'm sorry you had to live through it… and I'm… I'm sorry that your family had to be the cause of so much of it."

Daken chuckles a little, looking at the hand in his. It feels nice, but it reminds him too much of Akihira tonight. He takes his hand back. "I know you and the old man have been close for a long time; I know that even for all he's failed as a father, he's a better person than I am… you help with that, I think."

"Your father is," Kurt takes a moment to think, "a complex person… you are, too. You're both--you both have had horrid things happen to you--done horrid things, and you're both trying to be better… I love you both dearly."

"Oh," Daken questions, tilting his head. "You do?"

Kurt blushes a little, his cheeks turning purple for the rush of blood under the fur. "Well, I mean…"

"You don't have to worry,  _ oto-san _ . I understand," he finishes his dorayaki, then rinses the bowl and the pan he used before heading back upstairs. 

Kurt looks at the red bean filling and sighs, worried that maybe he's pushing boundaries somewhere--that his intentions are being misread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kurt doesn't know this, but oto-san means "dad" or "daddy" in Japanese.


	13. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan and Kurt take a walk

" _Oto-san_ ," Logan feels the weight of the word on his heart like lead. His son calls his best friend oto-san, but has never once called him father under any circumstances that weren't an insult… except when he was dying. 

"It's… well, it isn't the first time he's called me that, and I…" Kurt sighs, rubbing his arm nervously, "I'm not sure if I should be concerned… I don't want him to get the wrong idea; he's a smart man, and handsome and all, but he… he isn't.."

"Kurt," Logan looks at him, a pursed look on his face, "do you… do you know what that word means?"

"Ah… not … not really, but he's not really keen on saying it," Kurt looks at the ground as he and his friend walk towards the mansion. "I thought maybe it was something like 'darling' or maybe 'sweetheart'... Like…"

"Like someone you love," Logan sighs, shaking his head. "Nah, elf, that ain't it…"

"Oh? Then what…" Kurt asks shyly, seeing the way his companion seems conflicted.

"It means 'dad'," Logan frowns, "or more closely, 'dad', like a little kid… he… he sees you as a father figure. Like family."

Kurt stalls a little, slowing down his pace. Daken sees him as a dad? Is that what the step-dad remark was about? 

"That's what he…" Logan sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"What he what," Kurt asks, stopping beside Logan and looking down at him, worry on his face.

"I… I had a talk with him," Logan admits, his eyes closed. "Told him that the two of you… if you wanted to, it'd be fine."

"To what? To--to date," Kurt asks, immediately blushing with embarrassment, "Logan, that's your kid, I could never…"

"Kid's older than you, and… I thought that's what this was--the two of you getting close. And no one could be better for someone like us--like him than you, elf." Logan sighs, taking a cigar out of his pocket. He needs a smoke right now. 

"Logan, he… he's special to me," Kurt chuckles nervously, "he's a friend, but he… he's not the person who has my heart."

"Nah? Well, that's…. Fine, too, I guess," Logan takes a puff of the cigar, the taste of the tobacco and the temporarily calming effects of the nicotine helping ease his nerves just a little. Kurt doesn't want his son…

Kurt presses his lips, stroking his chin. The fur there is getting longer now, darkening and stiffening into a beard. "Although… well, I do think maybe it would be good for him to have _someone_. He seems," Kurt pauses, trying to find the right word to use, "a little lost sometimes… it's nice to have someone who can help you when that happens."

He sighs, looking at Logan's shoulder, where the spare hand is resting, his arms crossed as he takes another drag off the stogie. How many times has Logan helped him like that? When the trauma of all he's done and been through starts rising up, threatening to drown him? How many times has he done the same for Logan? He knows it's been far too many to count, but he's never minded it. Logan has been his anchor for over a decade… he wonders if Logan feels the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will probably be a little more Daken-centric, since I feel a little guilty about not utilizing enough of him these past couple of chapters.


	14. Laundry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daken loves to do laundry, but hates being interrupted. How will he react when an acquaintance interrupts laundry time?

"Cripes, how many shirts have you stolen off Johnny," a half-playful voice comes drifting towards Daken as he folds his laundry. Of all the domestic chores he's taken up doing, this is probably his favorite; methodical, repetitive, almost meditative. So of course one of the X-Men would come and break his concentration. He carefully finishes arranging the shirt in question into a near-perfect square and grabs the next.

"Just three," he sighs, "but one's been shredded beyond repair." He looks over his shoulder and catches a glimpse of the person who's broken the little zen he'd created--ice blue eyes and brown curls. Bobby. "I'd apologize to him, but I doubt he cares too much; he has almost as extensive a wardrobe as I do."

"And you're still stealing shirts off him," Bobby asks, crossing his arms and lifting an eyebrow, a thoroughly unimpressed look on his face.

"Jealous, snowflake," Daken asks, a smirk crossing his own face. "Would you prefer I be stealing yours?"

"What?! No," Bobby feels his face turning pink unwillingly, cursing the betrayal when he hears Daken let a low, deep chuckle.

"Oh don't work yourself up," Daken smirks, "your shirts would be too tight on me anyway… though you seem to be dropping a bit of weight."

He isn't sure why he's noticed it. The way Bobby's clothes seem to hang a little looser than they did several months ago… when he'd still been a "villain" and had used the Apocalypse seed to try and destroy the school--the school he was now living in. When he'd mockingly asked for a dance and been frozen alive halfway through it. Come to think of it, Bobby has been smelling a little off lately, too. There's the smell of disapproval, of course--the man didn't exactly want him here, as so many others didn't--but it's been mixed with something else, as well. Not that he's cared enough to try and discern what it is--he's been a little too focused on trying to actually rehabilitate to care that the majority of the students and staff don't want him her--but then Bobby usually tries to avoid him when he can, too.

"Ah, thanks," Bobby looks off to one side, crossing his arms. "Been working out."

' _ A lie _ ,' Daken realizes. He can smell it all over him, but he doesn't say anything. He hums, though, not impressed with the falsehood and not believing it for a second. He can smell the guilt when Bobby realizes it. He can smell the frustration, too, when Bobby can't think of something to say next.

"Natsumi never let me do this," Daken speaks instead, testing the waters in easing the tension building in the room, in making conversation, "she was always so particular about the housework…"

Bobby shakes his head, trying to clear out the frustration and… confusion? Why was Daken trying to be civil? Other than the fact that he's supposed to be reforming himself here. "Natsumi? Who--who is that?"

"My…. Adopted mother. Akihira's wife. She was," he stalls. Maybe this wasn't the best course of conversation for him… it's never been easy talking about his adopted family, not even with Kurt. And with his mind still at least partially relaxed from folding his clothes, the memories that resurface are starting to echo.

"Oh… yeah, I get it," Bobby nods, combing his fingers through his hair a little nervously. "My mom hated it when I tried dusting the cabinets… said I always put the pictures back wrong. It must be a mom thing."

"Must be," Daken states plainly, his face hardening as he sets back to his task, faster now, trying to avoid relaxing his mind any more today. He'll have nightmares again tonight, he's sure.

Bobby notices the sudden change in demeanor --how Daken went from slow and methodical to almost aggressively folding clothes. From seemingly enjoying the chore to trying to get it done as quickly as possible. Was it something  _ he _ said? Why does he care? Why does he feel a knot in his stomach?

He resists the urge to place a hand on Daken's shoulder and goes into the kitchen for a soda.


	15. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fight with Sabertooth, Daken and Laura discuss nicknames

"Mein Gott! Are you two okay?!" Kurt feels himself get pale, looking at the blood painting the walls--the claw marks, the holes in their uniforms, the way both Daken and Laura are moving stiffly.

"We ran into an old friend," Daken grumbles, putting an arm under Laura to make sure she has her balance. She knocks his arm away, rotating her shoulder to try and work out the kinks. 

"Sabertooth may be an old teammate, but I would not consider him a friend," she shakes her head, pulling her hair away from her eyes. She'll have to wash the blood out of it when they get back to the school.

"Scheiß" Kurt frowns, swearing under his breath, ,"I'll have to text Logan and tell him he's in the area… are you two okay to get to the Blackbird?"

"We'll be fine," Daken assures, his knee still healing as he limps alongside Laura down the stairs and out the door. He decides that they parked far too far away, his knee catching with every other step. He'll have to re-break it for it to heal right.

Bobby is already prepping the jet for takeoff when they get in. Laura sits in the seat across from her brother, both of them watching the other for signs of further injury without saying a word. Their icy pilot comes back to the hangar, greeting them. He isn't prepared for the god-awful crack he hears when Daken breaks his own knee and sets it back into the right position.

"Sorry about that," Daken winces briefly, noticing the look on Bobby's face. "It didn't heal right the first time."

"Um… wha--yeah...okay. yeah, no, it's fine," Bobby makes a face, still feeling sympathy pain. "Uh… where's Kurt?"

"Telling Logan that Sabertooth is around here," Laura states, "he's more accustomed to handling Victor than we are."

"Oh… a--are you guys alright," he asks, looking specifically at Daken, who chuckles.

"We've lived through worse, snowflake."

Bobby mumbles something about how stupid the nickname is as he ducks his head and goes back to the cockpit, leaving Laura and Daken alone in the hangar. Laura tilts her head.

"Snowflake?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. You know, because of the ice?" Daken sighs, leaning back in his seat.

"It…. Is unlike you to use nicknames," Laura notes, studying her brother's reaction.

"What are you talking about," he asks, trying to justify himself, "I call you 'bitch' all the time. Imōto, too, but you're mean about that one."

"I am not a child," she reasons, "and you only use that one when you want to annoy me."

"Oh, come now, don't be like that," Daken frowns, "it means 'little sister'. It's not like I'm calling you a baby; there's affection connected with that word."

"Affection," Laura asks, "then… are you also using that nickname to be affectionate towards Bobby? Or is being annoying also how you show affection?" She smiles a little, enjoying the way her brother half-heartedly glares at her.

"Hmph. Maybe it's both." He speaks before considering the first part. Is he being affectionate with Bobby? Or is he just trying to get a ride out of him? He  _ is _ a little cute when he's riled up… most people are. He sighs.

"Forget I said that."


	16. Painting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt interrupts Daken while he's painting

Daken sighs and pauses his painting to look behind him. The smell of sulphur fades as the wind carries it southward. There's going to be a storm later. He carefully cleans his brush and dries it as Kurt comes to sit beside him, grinning.

"You're enjoying the sumi-e supplies? How many have you painted so far?"

"Oh, I'd say probably around a dozen," Daken says gently, "maybe more… um… wanna see?"

Kurt's face glows, excited. "I'd love to!"

Daken smiles a little and hands him the rolls with the paintings he's already made. He's no Shūbun, but he does okay, he thinks. His thoughts are affirmed when Kurt smiles, looking through his work happily.

"Daken, these are so good…" Kurt whispers, gently stroking a page and warmly looking at the picture--a finch in the maple tree Daken saw a few weeks ago, just as the leaves started turning.

"You can have one, if you'd like…" Daken offers, taking his hair down from his hair tie. He's not particularly attached to his art, and Kurt  _ did _ gift the supplies to him… and he seems to enjoy the paintings.

"May I," Kurt asks, looking like a kid on Christmas. He immediately takes the one of the finch he was just holding, smiling at it. "This one… if that's okay?"

"Of course," Daken smiles at him. "It's all yours…"

Kurt smiles, holding it to his chest. He's already thinking of frames he could put it in. He wants to hang it on his wall, or maybe put it on display on his bookshelf… he looks at Daken and smiles, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Daken looks at the hand, rain starting to come down in small droplets. He feels a warmth in his chest, blooming and warming his soul. He pulls him into a hug, something he's only ever done with his sisters, and his adopted father before them. Kurt is so warm and fuzzy….

Kurt sighs, wrapping his arms around him after the initial shock passes. He smiles, squeezing him closer. 

"Daken, I'm so proud of you… you've been doing so well…"

Daken feels the warmth drop a little. Kurt's proud? Daken will let him down eventually. He has everyone else. He smiles to hide the sadness and moves away, gathering his supplies. 

"Come on, let's get out of the rain before it gets worse…"


	17. Proposition

Daken sighs, sinking further into the tub. His new room is one of a couple handfuls that is adjoined to a bathroom that has a bathtub instead of just a shower, and he wonders idly if that was a conscious decision on Logan's part. If so, then he may just have to thank him…. Days like this, it's nice to have a nice, hot soak after his shower. Of course, half an hour into it, and the water is starting to go cold. Maybe now is as good a time as ever to go ahead and drain the water. He stands and unstops the drain, listening to the water flowing down.

One last step after drying off and pulling on his pajama bottoms; he opens the bottle and begins washing his face, scrubbing the lemon-scented soap over his nose and cheeks. He splashes himself with some cool water before drying off with a towel. He looks at the mirror, his gaze immediately catching on the prominent nose he inherited from his father. It's wider than Logan's, but larger than many of the children he grew up with. He frowns slightly, tugging at the fatty tissue under his eyes, where the lower lid meets his cheeks in a crease. He's always thought that feature was attractive, even though popular society states otherwise. It makes him look unique, but never as much as his eyes… the ashy brown always stuck out like mud in the pools of ink made up by his peers. They marked him as different. Foreign. He wonders, occasionally, if his mother's eyes were that light, but he doubts it. 

He furrows his eyebrows, breathing out loudly as he puts his hair into a tie. He brushes his teeth and leaves the bathroom, his mind wandering, distracting him from his surroundings. It hasn't been that long ago that he wouldn't have dreamed of letting his guard down like this; months of living surrounded by others--people who can handle themselves--has been affecting him more than he'd thought.

What was it he had told Laura all those years ago? Pretending to be a hero makes you soft...

It isn't until he hits another body that he's pulled out of his head. He unsheathes his claws, growling low in his throat. 

"Hey, woah woah woah! Chill out," the man says, holding his hands up defensively. Blue eyes lock onto Daken's, a look of worry and confusion on his face.

"Bobby…" Daken sighs, pulling his claws back into his arms. "Christ. Sorry about that."

"Ah, no no…" Bobby explains, standing and rubbing his head, "don't apologise, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going… just thinking too much, I guess."

Bobby sighs, then looks at Akihiro, shirtless and with a freshly washed face. He looks so handsome, and as soon as the thought crosses his head, he blushes. "Say, you wouldn't be up for a dinner at my parents' house, would you? I don't… wanna go by myself, even though they're trying to be nicer about my being out now. And I know you wouldn't take shit from them."

Daken looks at the man, tilting his head. Bobby wants him to come to a family dinner?

"Why not take one of the others; they know you better."

"Well yeah, but my parents recognize most of them, and they wouldn't recognize you… also, uh," he pauses, looking more than a little nervous and sheepish. "Could you pretend to be my boyfriend?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know in the very first chapter, i described Akihiro's eyes as being blue, but I know better now/j


End file.
